101 One Shots to Break your Heart
by Gustave Daae Y
Summary: 101 one shots that all have rather sad stories about different Star Wars characters. Mostly about Luke, as he's my favorite character.
1. Out, Out

Out, out

For the first time in months, Luke looked himself in the mirror. Up until that point, he had only thought that his change had been within him.

He didn't recognize the man staring back at him.

This man wore a tight fit black jacket and matching trousers when he used to only wear white and occasionally grey. He remembered his rationale for this change: you were able to hide the best in black. After the fight with...with Him, alliance members kept bombarding him with questions about the fight. Everyone seemed to want to mark the event as a historical landmark while Luke had just wanted to forget that it had ever happened. So he hid. He hid from everyone and used his solitude to meditate. More than once he would hear His voice calling to him, whispering into his ear words of sweet seduction. The black clothes he had chosen hid something else he wished to hide. The high collar was buttoned up his throat, making it a bit uncomfortable to breath, but it was better than letting the world see what laid beneath.

He unfastened the collar and freed his neck. He sighed gazing at the purple, blue and black flesh that encased his throat like a necklace. He gingerly touched the wound, pressing lightly against his Adam's apple. It still stung to his touch. He thought bitterly that the bruises were the only thing He had given him.

His hair was darker as well despite being more clean than it usually had been. While still clearly blond, especially when compared to his dark clothes, it had darkened at the roots. He was curious to why. Surely the battle raging inside of him, trying to claw its way out, couldn't change his physical appearance. He passed it off as simply his body deciding to grow up. It wasn't unheard of for a blond's hair to darken as they age. Though, in a way, he was torn up inside because he had grown up. He had grown up abruptly when his world was shattered by 6 syllables.

His skin was rubbed raw though it was cleaner than Luke had ever kept it. It was most notable on his left hand that almost looked red. His right wasn't affected as it wasn't truly his. He knew why this was. For the first time in his life, he had access to a shower system. The water was never warm, nearly ice cold, but Luke would spend plenty of time in their scrubbing his skin. He felt revolted by himself if he didn't shower in the morning. He had skipped it one morning and felt nauseous the entire day, constantly going to the 'fresher to scrub his hand, arms and face in a desperate attempt to hide his filth. Even now he found himself scrubbing his face and hands after every drill his squadron went through. His hands mostly. They never felt clean. So he would wash them until they almost did. When Wedge came into the 'fresher to inform him that he had been in there for fifteen minutes, Luke realized that he probably had a problem. But try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from washing his hands.

Despite being as raw as meat in a butcher's window, his skin was pale, the color of porcelain. His deep tan that he had acquired from years spent being baked under the twin suns had finally faded, leaving in its wake white, pasty flesh of one who spent his time among the stars. He had never thought it was possible for him to lose the color in his face. And yet, any warm tone had drained from his face.

He saw how thin he had become. Or perhaps he had always been this scrawny and had just been better at hiding it. His new wardrobe hid his stretched muscles to a point where no one would look at him and think he was in shape. Looking at just his body, he looked like a small, malnourished child.

But his face told a different story. His once boyish looks had vanished. His cheeks were sunken in so tight that he could see his bones protruding through his tight skin. Their were deep lines surrounding his forehead and scowling mouth. Curious, he attempted to smile, hoping to bring some life to his near-death like face. It only appeared at a grimace or a smile an executioner would give while torturing and killing his latest victim. He stopped attempting to bring life into his face.

One thing looked about the same: his bright blue eyes. He had never truly comprehended how blue his eyes were. Framed by dark marks and blonde bangs, the color truly popped. It appeared to be the only light color on his body. The only part of him that looked anything like he was before. Though even saying that, they too had changed.

They now saw differently.


	2. Sacrifice

Sacrifice

The Emperor was dead, or soon would be. Vader would soon be the ruler of the galaxy.

But none of that mattered at the moment.

"Stay strong, Luke." Vader told the quivering blonde boy in his arms. "Stay strong. We're almost to the ship."

"F-father…" Luke whimpered feebly.

Looking down at his son made him want to strangle someone, but it was pointless: the person who had caused this was dead. His once elegant black jacket and trousers were now singed and torn, faint hints at what the boy had endured.

Man. The person in his arms was a man. He wasn't a child. He had faced the impossible-he had done the impossible. He was stronger than most in the galaxy, able to live through the force lightning torture that the Emperor was famous for. No one had ever lived once the Emperor decided to kill them. But here he was: alive. Barely. But alive.

But he still looked down and saw a frail little child.

His little child.

"Don't worry Luke." Vader assured him, entering the ship and placing Luke gently on the cot. "The nearest medical bay isn't far. Just hold on."

Luke grimaced, his blue eyes going wide as the throes tore through his body.

"K-ki-kill…m-m..."

"Don't you dare say that." Vader said, lightly grasping Luke's hand. "It'll be over soon-I promise. I'll be right back."

Luke curled into a ball, whimpering in pain, an occasional scream leaving his lips. Vader dashed to the cockpit, starting up the ship. As he punched in the coordinates, he heard Luke scream, though he was clearly trying his best to hide his pain. Vader wanted nothing but to rush to his child's side, but he had to get the ship away from the second Death Star and towards the nearest medical station. With the ship now heading towards Luke's recovery, Vader went back to his side.

"Hold on." Vader commanded, gently taking Luke's hand. "Just hold on. You'll be alright."

Luke glanced up at his father, Vader noticing a single bead of blood that had formed on Luke's forehead.

"I-I can't" Luke gasped. "Fa-father…"

Vader refused to believe what he knew to be true. Luke's presence in the force...it was fading.

"No…" Vader growled. "No! You will not die!"

But even as he said it, he could feel Luke's heart slowing. Luke pressed his head to Vader's hands, desperate for any sort of comfort.

"Please…" Luke whispered. "Please...take-take off-off your mask."

"No. I can't."

"Fa-father...please...I wa-want to know-know what you-you look like...I always-always have."

Vader didn't want to show his face to Luke. Luke...he was too pure-too full of light to see the monster who had created him. But-but he was dying. He couldn't refuse his son's dying request.

Slowly, Vader unlatched the sides of his helmet and removed it from his face. It was strange to see Luke without the dark tint of the lenses. His eyes were so blue, just like his father's had once been...and probably were now.

Luke smile looking at his father's deformed face.

"We-we have…" Luke whimpered with a small smile. "The-the same eyes."

It was like someone was trying to crush his heart using the force.

Vader stroked Luke's face with his hand, wiping the sweat and tears from his cheeks.

"Promise...promise me…" Luke started.

"Anything, my son." Vader vowed. "Anything."

"Protect-protect my sister."

"I promise."

Luke closed his eyes. And they never opened again.


	3. Battle Scars

Battle Scars

 **Warning: abuse, mild language, trauma.**

 **Author's note: This chapter is a test run. If it gets a good reaction, I have a full story planned.**

Anakin held his mom tightly as she trembled violently, her eyes glued on the man behind bars.

"It's alright," he tried to calm her, holding her steady and hoping she wouldn't try to run. "Mom, it's ok. He can't hurt you."

She didn't seem convinced.

He was beginning to realize that this was a bad idea. The monster was bound to the floor, making no movement, behind steel bars and having no access to the force. There were guards all around, weapons drawn, eyeing him, ready to end his life if he tried to come near her. He wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were glued on the filthy ground-but he knew she was there.

"Mom, see?" Anakin tried to make her comprehend the truth. "He can't hurt you anymore. He's trapped. He's powerless. He doesn't control you anymore."

Rey whimpered, trying her best not to cry. He had only ever seen his mom cry twice in his life, despite her entire existence being a nightmare, but he knew she was teetering on tears.

Her breathing was becoming rapid and panicked. She was taking steps away from him, Anakin having to grab her tighter, knowing it'd be worse if he let go.

Her knees gave out.

She crumpled to the floor in hysterics, sobbing and gasping into her hands. Anakin was instantly at her side, but he was not the only one who reacted instantly.

"Rey." The monster whispered, finally looking up at her now that her eyes were no longer bearing into him.

Anakin shot his head up and glared at him, his teeth gnarled as His voice made his mom trembling even more violent. She was now whispering incomprehensible words of fear and despair and shying away from Anakin's contact.

"Quiet you bastard!" Anakin shouted at him.

Anakin hated his father's eyes. Even now they were filled with what appeared to be regret and remorse and worry. But those were lies. It was those broken looking eyes that made his mom have hope for him-they prevented her from leaving. Those cursed eyes cemented his mom's life in that nightmare that was being by his side. Even now, he was giving his son-by-birth that pleading look.

It just made Anakin more furious.

But justice had to wait. Anakin scooped up his mother, who continued to writhe and sob, wanting to escape whoever was holding her, and fled the prison.

He felt horrid. He shouldn't have asked his mom to try to face him. Even though he was forceless and a prisoner of war, unable to harm her anymore, the wounds were still fresh and probably would never truly heal.

He felt even worse as his mom struggled to fight against him. He hated to think about how many times she was carried off against her will in the arms of a tall, brutish man with raven hair. And no doubt what happened afterwards.

"Kylo, no." he could comprehend some of her words now. "Please...please no."

It made him shutter.

He made it to their quarters, attracting the stares of many while doing so. He prayed that no one followed them.

He needed to be alone with his mom at the moment.

"Mom, it's alright." He tried to calm her down as she scratched and hit and kicked him, desperate to escape. "Mom, it's me. Anakin. Your son. Mom, it's me."

He gently but firmly grabbed her face.

"Mom, look.

His eyes met hers. She panicked for a moment, everything from his black hair to the scar across his face to the very build of his body sending shivers down her spine. But the moment she saw blue, she calmed.

Blue eyes. He-He didn't have blue eyes. Her son, her precious boy-he had blue eyes. Blue meant happiness and hope and calmness. Blue meant no pain and no chains and no prison guards. Blue meant He was kept at bay. He would never hurt her while the blue eyes were in the room.

But even the relief of recognizing her son couldn't block out the memories.

She broke down sobbing into his shoulder, curling up in his arms.

She remained like that for a while.

He couldn't even begin to comprehend how she must have felt. He knew more than anyone else what she had been through as that monster's prisoner-the thought made him sick. He had always known he had been a bastard, that much had always been clear. That's what the troopers would whisper when he was walking the halls aboard the Traumatizer- The Supreme Leader's Bastard Son. But to piece together that he was something far worse...that his mother had gone through the unspeakable in order to have him and his siblings. That-that monster put her through that and had the audacity to try to appeal to her sympathy. It made his blood boil.

"I'm sorry, mom," Anakin whispered. "I'm so sorry…"


	4. Escape

Escape

Her entire body ached. She had never been in so much pain before. The horrific ordeal had ended several hours ago, but it felt as if it had occurred mere moments before. His arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against his chest, giving a clear message to the galaxy-she belongs to me, just try to take her. The sick bastard was pretending that they were in love. She expected (well hoped) that he would just leave her be once he was through with her, but he just laid down beside her.

She didn't remember much after the throes stopped and were replaced with just pain. She vaguely registered him kissing her forehead and cheek and gently nipping her ear.

It frightened her how fast his mood changed.

One moment he was a raving lust drunk monster, the next a child who just wanted to be held.

She wasn't sure if he was asleep or not. Part of her hoped he was. She could slop out of his possessive grasp and maybe steal a ship and be free from him. There was no point in staying. The resistance had been freed the moment she surrendered to him. She had no guilt leaving him now. He knew her too well to believe that she would stay obediently beneath him. He had taken the right to her body-that should be enough.

She would wait a few more minutes before trying to escape.

She began to slowly move, turning towards him to see if the movement made him stir. Nothing. She began creeping from his grasp, slowly slipping through his fingers.

It took longer than she would have liked, but eventually their flesh was no longer touching. She hastily dressed herself, glancing back at him every few seconds to see if he would wake. She almost felt pity for him. She knew sleep was hard for him-he hated being helpless. He had almost been murdered in his sleep twice and would wake to find her gone.

The pain that seared between her legs every time they moved put a quick end to the momentary twig of sympathy.

Still keeping her eyes glued on him, she bent down to the floor where his coat had been tossed aside. Blindly, she fumbled through the pockets, finding several credits and eventually the data cards that gave him access to everything on board.

He was beginning to stir, not feeling her pressed against him.

A bit of panic crept into her mind. She quickly calmed herself, knowing her fear would just make him wake faster.

She thought of all the things she loved about him. How he fought by her side against the Red Guards. The moment where their hands touched. Even the visions they saw of each other's future.

The warm thoughts lulled him back into a deep sleep.

She kept the warm thoughts going, but slowly had them fade away. She waited a few minutes after she stopped sending the visions to see if he would react. He didn't.

Silently, she put the passkey up against the door and didn't wait to see if the noise had woken him up.

She bolted down the hallway, desperate to get away from her prison. Every step hurt, but she knew it would be a thousand times worse if she was caught by the temperamental Supreme Leader.

She tried to remember where the nearest hanger was. When she had been first brought on board, she attempted to memorize the location but she was blind folded almost immediately. He didn't remove it until they reached his chambers and no doubt they took the scenic route in getting there.

She tried reaching out to the force, trying to pinpoint where the galaxy was. Hangers had to be beside the exits of the ship. It was her only bet.

She turned a corner and saw a sea of white. She immediately hid back behind the wall. If they saw her, she was as good as His and she refused to be his prey again.

"Troopers, forward."

Well they had to lead her somewhere useful.

She hoped her risk would have a payoff. She was walking a dangerous line. If he woke up and alerted the troopers, they would be only feet away from her.

Her risk paid off. They eventually unknowing led her to a hanger.

This was where it got tricky.

The place was crawling with troopers. She regretted not sneaking away to grab a first order uniform when she had the chance. She clung to the walls and behind crates as she snuck her way towards the TIE closest to the opening of the hanger. She held up the keypass to the door and it opened. She let out a sigh of relief-so far so good. She didn't start the ship just yet-she wanted to wait until another ship entered, hopefully causing at least a bit of confusion. It wouldn't take long.

That plan exploded.

She felt his presence. He was trying to hide it, and doing a great job, but she felt it just the same. She couldn't wait. She frantically turned on the ship, her freedom and dignity on the line. It was prepared to take off but alarms were already ringing. The hanger door was closing as the engine kicked into action. She was able to get a few feet off the ground before the TIE violently lurched to one side. The cockpit smashed against the floor and she found herself looking at a pair of black boots and a red blade on the opposite side of the glass.

Kylo plunged his saber into the glass, only an inch away from where her face was, before shattering the entire windshield.

He grabbed her by the arm but not before she grabbed a piece of glass and plunged it into his arm. He let out a furious growl and grabbed her wrist.

He wasted no time on words. His troopers grabbed her by her arms and cuffed her. She assumed that he would just sling her over his shoulder-the escort was a surprise.

They were both locked back in his chambers when he removed his helmet and let it clang onto the floor.

He wasn't sure what to say to her.

"Anything to say for yourself?" Kylo said, his nasty scar amplified by his gruesome snarl.

"You didn't actually think I would just give up my freedom to you."

"Considering that was the bargain," He bolted towards her, thrusting her against the wall, "yes I did."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Supreme Leader," Rey snapped back, "but I have no intention of letting myself to become the person you keep around to keep your bed warm."

She tried to push him away, but her efforts were futile.

"Even now, you're trying to escape your destiny. Your vow." Kylo pressed his body against hers, preventing her from moving entirely. "You are supposed to be at my side. You promised to be at my side in exchange for the life of those low lifes you call friends. You belong to me."

She glared up at him. Force she loathed him.

"You try my patience," Kylo growled. "You either rule by my side or continue on as we did last night."

"Mustafar would sooner freeze over than me join you in tyranny."

"So be it."

He released her and let her fall to the floor. He stood at the foot of his bed.

"Then join me in bed." Kylo commanded.

"No." Rey spat at him. "I refuse. You had me last night-that's enough."

"I kept my promise- you are going to keep yours."

She didn't budge.

"You either join me on the dark side or join me in bed or I will hunt down every last resistance member and sympathiser and slaughter them in front of you."

She gritted her teeth.

She stood up.

She walked over to him.

"You're lucky it's not something worse after the stunt you pulled," He said in a low voice.

He quickly undressed her and she fell on the bed. He caged her. He loved how she was trembling. His lips kissed the back of her neck, nipping and sucking on the flesh-biting it until it bled.

"Touch me." He commanded.

He twisted her body around so their chests were facing one another.

"Touch me." He commanded, his voice fiercer.

She refused.

"Stars, I love it when you're stubborn, but know that my threat will be put into action if you don't obey."

She gritted her teeth as her hand went to his chest.

"Undress me." He ordered.

Her hand went beneath his coat, slowly pulling it open and then off of his body. Without the black clothing covering it, she saw the true massive size of the beast on top of her.

"Keep going." He groaned.

Her hand trailed his chest, slowing going down to his toned stomach.

"Touch me." He whispered, his voice desperate and unhinged. "Touch me, Rey."

She closed her eyes and felt his hot breath against her ear as she obeyed.

He let out an animalistic moan.

"Beg for me." He commanded.

Her mind was screaming to beg him to be more gentle this time-but she refused. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of her fear. It would be agony, but she needed some of her dignity. She was not going to beg for mercy.

"I grow tired of having to repeat myself." He tasted her blood. "Beg for me."

"Kylo, please." Her other hand went to the brim of his trousers. "Oh force please."

His chest was rising and falling frantically-as was hers.

"I need you." She bit his ear. "I need your love-I need your body right now."

Her hands moved down the brim of his trousers.

His hands went to her knees. He spread them apart.

It was worse than it was the previous night.


End file.
